Point and Shoot, FL (YU)—I was wondering what Larry thought about the Saints winning the Superbowl. He said it was almost as bad as his fear of shopping malls. The horror. The horror.
He thanked me for sending the last installment of my stack and said he liked the quote about the poor sound quality adding to the effect of a David Zack correspondence novel.
The quality of the audio is erratic suggesting that Zack
was using a cheap battery-powered tape machine with a low quality
cassette. There is a buzziness to his
vocals possibly caused by a faulty external mic connection or the manual input
control being turned too far up. His
spontaneous energetic creativity is somewhat compromised by apparent financial
restrictions combined with environmental problems such as a lack of mains electricity. The overall effect is that of a recording
broadcast on a wavelength distressed by atmospheric interference. Zack's collage technique made by breaking
into a solid piece of audio with shorter bursts of variable clarity at
irregular intervals - creates the erratic quality and imposes a liveliness on
the whole soundwork. It is a fine
example of live correspondence with its own particular sense of magic - one
that would be dulled by a sharper recording quality and more advanced and more
expensive equipment (http://www.ccca.ca/c/writing/h/haining/zackd003t.html).
That’s
the way I feel about my online writings.
Pete Horobin is spot on. As
usual. Disappeared, I think. Like Zack.
It isn’t just the Superbowl, or shopping malls, it’s modern times. It’s the American dream.
We busted a gasket.
Zombies ate the
neocons but we were all collateral damage.
Werewolves in
I never met a GI who didn’t hate the Red Cross.
Giving AIDS blood to nuns. The first sergeant with a .45 strapped to his hip on payday, a cigar box, “Give a dollar to the Red Cross.” You gave or you pulled shit details.
I can see Larry out there mowing the grass.
Why didn’t he give $1? Is he nuts? Is he a hardhead?
Believers in animism. Fucking a mud puddle. Zey are a very religious people.
In A Serious Man a Korean tries to bribe his physics professor.
That guy’s life, it should fall apart. He’d be better off without it. Without the Columbia Record Club, the daughter who wants a nose-job, the colleague at work, keeping him informed about his tenure candidacy, his wife’s lover, Fred Melamed, the sex guy, with his Coupe de Ville, the next door neighbor who sun-bathes nude and smokes pot for recreation, this was just before Woodstock, Woodstock wasn’t new, it was the same, rock-and-roll wasn’t revolutionary, all it did was kill jazz and bluegrass and classical music and give us Clear Channel Radio, Nixon gave us Bush, Aiee, The Phantom.
This isn’t a ghost story it’s a horror story.
Reading Brian Aldiss’s book I realized that I am a writer, my experience writing on the worldwide web is interesting, I have useful information to share with aspiring writers, beginning writers, the kind of people who go to writers conferences, and ask the wrong questions.
What can I tell them? How to be a failure?
I’m not a failure, I’m a success.
Lower your expectations.
This is about as much as you can hope for. But it’s better than working for a corporation. It’s better than following orders. Putting on an act.
Biting your tongue.
Kissing ass.
Stabbing your buddy in the back.
Who wants to do that?
That’s bad for your karma.
The Superbowl, Morning Joe, Sarah Palin at the Teabagger Convention, Celebrity Rehab, television, radio, USA Today, the book buzz on tv, have you had it in an olive, the oral polio vaccine?
The good news is you don’t have polio.
The bad news is
you have simian immunovirus (SIV) and an epidemic of soft-tissue cancers. Give $1 to the Red Cross. Help feed werewolves in